


Pleasurepain

by Paranoia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale is a bastard, Biting, Bondage, Consent is Sexy, Crowley is a brat, Crowley is a painslut, D/s, Divinity as a kink, Don't Try This At Home, Hair-pulling, I left my plot at home this morning. Whoops., Inadvisable Sexual Practices, M/M, PWP, Pain is Pleasure, Sadomasochism, Yes Sir/No Sir, bottom!Crowley, there was an attempt at praise kink, top!aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paranoia/pseuds/Paranoia
Summary: Lazy Sundays were Aziraphale's favorite. Calm, contented days with Crowley were always a treat but there was something particularly alluring when it was Sunday. Well, he should clarify.Normally,they were calm. Aziraphale had much different plans for this particular Sunday morning, though they did still include beinginbed, at least.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 90
Collections: O Lord Heal This Gift Exchange, Top Aziraphale Recs





	Pleasurepain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Literarion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literarion/gifts).



> Written for the un-endingly lovely Literarion.
> 
> Beta'd by Dudewheresmytea and Hedonist Worm on the [Ineffable Temptations Server.](https://discord.gg/2xX9Ukq)
> 
> With a _special_ thanks to [Kazeetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazeetie/pseuds/Kazeetie) for being a BAMF who screamed with me through this and two more upcoming fics. 
> 
> Lofe love you all, Fiends.

Lazy Sundays were Aziraphale’s favorite. The house was quiet and still, and often Crowley would lay curled up next to him with his head in the angel’s lap for hours, humming contentedly as Aziraphale ran his fingers through unruly locks of hair. Tea that Aziraphale would have otherwise let go cold was always at the perfect temperature due to the demon’s vigilance. It was a peaceful routine they’d settled into after the move, cherished for its contrast to the six thousand years leading up to it. Well, it was normally peaceful, anyway. Today, Aziraphale had different plans— ones that also involved being in bed for a considerable amount of time.

Crowley’s eyes fluttered open, a lazy smirk already settling over his face as Aziraphale willed his nails longer and just a touch sharper, catching at the demon’s scalp in a way that promised a very interesting turn to the afternoon. 

“Feeling frisky, angel?” Crowley drawled, eyes already lighting up. 

“Hmmm,” Aziraphale dug his fingers in a tad more, and he could feel the demon shudder softly. Crowley was very obviously interested, already shifting minutely to allow Aziraphale’s fingers to rake down his neck. But rarely one to pass up the opportunity to be a contrarian, he looked up at Aziraphale out of the corner of his eyes. 

“And if I decided I wasn’t keen?” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, unwilling to rise to the obvious bait. So with a small shrug he said, “Then I’d continue reading, I imagine.” His hand stilled in the demon’s hair, but he let his nails remain as they were. Aziraphale allowed himself a small smile as Crowley huffed in response, knowing anything close to a laugh would derail the conversation for longer than necessary. The demon’s ego could be so fragile over the oddest things. 

“Well,” Crowley deliberately drew out the word. “Let’s not be too hast—” Crowley gasped, eyes fully rolling back, as Aziraphale tugged roughly on his hair. He’d been expecting some response, but the confidence with which Aziraphale had settled into this role still took him by surprise. 

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow down at Crowley, whose eyes had gone fully yellow when they focused back on his lover. Aziraphale tightened the grip in his hair, but broke eye contact to pointedly stare back at his book. 

“Should I continue reading, Crowley?” 

“No, Sir.” Crowley’s voice had gone husky and low, and Aziraphale smiled, pleased by the response. While Aziraphale himself had no attachment to the titles that sometimes went with this sort of bedroom dynamic, Crowley did and was  _ very _ keen on being called ‘Sir’ when their roles were reversed. The fact the demon had slipped into using the title unconsciously meant Aziraphale was certainly on the right track. He promptly shut the heavy tome in his hand and laid it atop the side table in one smooth motion.

“What a good demon you are.” Aziraphale turned his attention back to him and, with care, drug Crowley’s head up and out of his lap. He had intended to lay the demon out and appreciate the view, but the current view had its merits, so instead Aziraphale leaned in to brush his lips over Crowley’s. 

Crowley responded eagerly, parting his lips with a pleased hum. Aziraphale would never tire of this— like consuming the hellfire and sulfur that had forged Crowley anew. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, and the angle was not the best, but the scrape of teeth, the hint of split-lip-iron stroked the embers of desire into an inferno in the Angel’s gut. Aziraphale could already hear Crowley falling apart beneath his fingertips, nearly delirious for it and begging to be owned in body and soul. 

With a dark and distinctly un-angelic sound, Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s bottom lip between his teeth and bore down, inspiring an exquisite moan that bled into a ruined  _ ‘fuck.’ _

Aziraphale wouldn’t have considered himself a sadist, except that he derived a molasses-dark pleasure from Crowley’s reactions to pain— pulse fluttering wildly beneath rough fingertips, sharps gasps melting into wordless praises, struggling against bonds purely for the thrill of it, pupils blown wide and rolled up— a demon insensate with pleasure.  If either of them had spared the moment any deep thought they might have reached the conclusion that these roles fit them, in a way. Salt-and-sulfer soaked fingertips— An angel who takes pleasure in punishment and a demon who takes pleasure in being punished.

Now was hardly the time for that kind of soul-searching thought, so instead Aziraphale pulled the demon away, teeth scraping brutally against lips as the contact was forcefully broken. Using his grip on copper-red locks, Aziraphale laid Crowley out on the bed, the demon’s bare chest already heaving and hands fisting into the pillows. Crowley looked up at him with dilated pupils, a dark smile creeping over his lips— the kind of smile that promised blood and horrors untold, something sinister and deadly. The sight of it unsettled the angel, in that he was suddenly very aware of just how achingly hard he was, and how some twisted and ugly in the center of him wanted to consume and possess the dark promises of that smile. 

_ “And what...” _ Aziraphale used his free hand to raise red, angry lines from the hollow of Crowley’s throat down his sternum and stomach.  _ “...should we do with you, hmm?” _ He traced vermillion promises into Crowley’s ribs, pressing harder as the demon writhed into it. Crowley gasped, unable to choke down the sound, as Aziraphale made a particularly brutal pass of his fingertips at the bottom ribs— lines brutally welling up beneath his nails, already dark and purple. Aziraphale couldn’t tame the vicious smile that spread over his face, rather than try he thumbed over the abraded skin once more, pressing down into the bruising skin.

“ _ Christ alive, Angel,”  _ Crowley hissed, his skin erupting into goosebumps, eyes snapping shut and head tipping back as he arched into the touch. “ _ You’re going to discorporate me and make me beg for it, like this.” _ Aziraphale hummed vaguely and waited until the demon’s eyes fell open, meeting them heatedly. Now that his audience was attentive, Aziraphale lifted his hand to the demon’s face and  _ dragged _ his thumb over his lips. 

“How beautiful you are, beneath my nails.” With the hand that was still tangled in Crowley’s hair, Aziraphale twisted, pulling each strand painful and tight. Crowley whimpered, eyes fixed desperately to Aziraphale’s lips, staring at the angel so intensely that either of them could have been set alight. Aziraphale trailed his free hand down Crowley’s jaw, nails lightly scraping at the sharp jawline and then tracing down the column of his neck, catching at the Adam’s apple there. Something in the demon seemed to snap as he begun to breathlessly chant  _ ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’. _ He was so transfixed that when Aziraphale trailed his hands back down his torso and thumbed over the broken skin again he shouted out, hoarse and voice breaking, “ _ F-fuck!” _

Devastated and teetering on the edge, Crowley stared up at him, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but follow fingers with lips and teeth. Crowley swore again as Aziraphale leaned in to press his lips along each raised welt, then inhaled sharply when he began to trace them with his tongue. Aziraphale didn’t linger here though— pain paid too much attention faded. Instead, he traced his way up each rib until he was able to swipe his tongue over Crowley’s nipple, just once, before pinching it between his teeth and pulling softly. Crowley’s nipples were delightfully sensitive, but the line between genuine pain and pleasure was all the thinner for it and so his attentions were practically gentle. 

“ _ Aziraphale, please. _ ” Crowley pushed back into the hand in his hair, chest rising up into Aziraphale’s mouth and hips shifting desperately. Aziraphale took pity on the needy demon beneath him and trailed his free hand beneath the blankets still draped over Crowley’s waist. Crowley rarely re-dressed himself for sleeping after an evening of love-making and Aziraphale took advantage of this, his wandering hand skirting dangerously close to the demon’s throbbing erection, but ultimately denying contact and instead he stroked his nails down a sensitive inner thigh. There, Aziraphale lingered, stroking down to the demon’s knee before drawing upwards again until he was close enough to feel the heat off of Crowley’s prick, fingers teasing the wine-red thatch of hair there, but still not touching. Crowley was squirming beneath him, desperately searching for friction— Aziraphale’s hand on his aching dick, a cruel pull at his hair, or a too-hard bite at the nipple beneath his mouth. Aziraphale wasn’t going to give it to him, however. He was going to let the demon languish in this pleasureable-but-not-enough state until the demon begged, and he would. 

He did. Crowley’s voice was hoarse and nearly sobbing. “ _ Aziraphale.. _ .” 

The angel’s hand, hot and heavy at the top of Crowley’s thigh stilled there. With a cruel, final suck— just a little harder than he had been, but still not  _ enough— _ Aziraphale released his nipple with an obscene popping sound. He hovered there, so that as he spoke his breath would ghost over the saliva-wet skin.

“I’m listening.” 

Crowley groaned in frustration. He knew the game well enough, but half the fun was in the struggle anyway so he still said nothing. Long moments stretched out, Aziraphale’s breath still ghosting over his wet nipple and hand still unmoving on his thigh, just far enough out of reach that Crowley couldn’t twist or turn into touching the angel where he wanted. Aziraphale was patient when he had control, a perfect bastard. Crowley was not. It felt like an eternity in limbo, but was less than a minute before the tension was too much and he finally snapped, chest heaving. 

“God, fuck. Please, Aziraphale—  _ Sir. Anything, everything, fuck me!”  _

Aziraphale didn’t move immediately. He lingered, not long enough to be properly cruel, but long enough to earn being called a bastard. When he did finally move it was to carefully nip at the thin skin over Crowley’s ribs, before sucking deep-purple bruises over it. As he worked on a possessive collection of dark love-bites over Crowley’s chest he finally took his cockin a loose fist, pumping him a few times. There wasn’t enough pressure to bring him any closer, but Crowley still moaned into the sensation with relief. Aziraphale then released him and with miracle-slick fingers, circled his hole before sliding one finger in up to the knuckle. Crowley bore down on his hand, hissing out, “ _ Fffuck, yesss. _ ” 

The angel kept a steady pace as he easedCrowley open, pulling on his hair hard enough to force his head back and chin up, exposing his long, delicate neck. Aziraphale withdrew his hand to add a second finger but stopped when Crowley begged, “ _ Like this. Please. _ ” Aziraphale usually took his time opening him up, not that either of them— strictly speaking— needed to. Crowley liked to feel the burning stretch, the cusp of pain overpowering pleasure. He wasn’t human, he didn’t have to worry about the usual consequences. Still, Aziraphale didn’t often indulge in this particular whim, preferring to go about it the more human way—  _ preferring _ to fuck him with his fingers until Crowley was practically sobbing for the want of him. Today, the angel was feeling magnanimous and a little impatient himself, so instead of a second finger he hooked an arm underneath his leg and shifted Crowley onto his side. Aziraphale slid in close, another miracle vanishing his pants to the floor, out of the way. He let himself rut into Crowley, cock sliding teasingly between his arse cheeks. 

With the new position Aziraphale could sink his teeth into the demon’s shoulders, so he did so before turning to whisper in Crowley’s ear, “ _ Is this what you want, you wicked thing? _ ” Crowley was beyond complex speech now, and could only manage a soft ‘ _ yes _ ’ in response, pressing his hips back into the angel. The action set the angle just right, Aziraphale’s dick catching on his entrance— not enough pressure to push in, but the demon whimpered in response all the same. Aziraphale groaned at the same time. Crowley might well be the death of him. 

“As you wish.” And Aziraphale was pushing into him, maddeningly slow, because there was an art to walking the fine line between pleasure-pain and just pain. He bit down again on Crowley’s shoulder as he finally bottomed out and stilled to let the demon acclimate. It wasn’t long before he was shifting back against him, asking to continue. It was almost certainly too soon, but Aziraphale trusted Crowley to know his limits, so he pulled back before pushing back in. He tried to give Crowley another moment, but the demon was having none of it— shifting to fuck himself on Aziraphale, hissing a breathless, “ _ Yesss _ ” to himself. Aziraphale bit down hard enough to barely break the skin in admonishment, a bright spark of pain. Crowley moaned in rapture, clenching down on Aziraphale. Crowley took himself firmly in hand, stroking in time with Aziraphale’s thrusts. The angel trailed a line of hickeys up to Crowley’s ear and set a punishing pace, focusing on the sensitive bundle of nerves within that would undo the demon. Crowley was reduced to a series of obscene sounds, moans, and slurred  _ Azzziraaphale _ ’s as the angel stroked against his prostate. Each time he struck true Crowley’s own rhythm on himself faltered, too lost in the white-hot burst of sensations to focus on his own strokes.

  
  


Aziraphale could feel Crowley tightening around him, his orgasm looming close, so he stilled. Crowley whined indignantly— he’d been so close he could practically taste it. “ _ Not yet. _ ” Aziraphale disengaged from a particularly abused spot on the demon’s neck to whisper into his ear. When Crowley finally relaxed against him he withdrew again before brutally slamming back in, chasing after the demon’s wrecked moans. Aziraphale lost himself to Crowley’s enveloping heat, the taste of his skin, the feeling of molten-red hair between his fingertips. It wasn’t angelic by any means, but he craved this feeling— the intimacy, the control, the  _ possession _ . Having Crowley at his whims, inarticulate and weak against him. 

They were both close now. Aziraphale could feel the tension coiling tight and heavy in his belly. Crowley was moaning his name like a prayer, low and urgent. 

“ _ Aziraphale, _ ” Crowley’s voice was pitched dark and husky, “ _ Please...ohhh, fffuck. Do the… ah, yess… t-the thing, please. _ ”

Aziraphale was so very close, the world reduced only to his body and Crowley's. He groaned against Crowley’s neck, unable to find the words to respond, but already anticipating the force with which Crowley would clench against him. He bit down on the spot on the demon’s shoulder from earlier viciously, and focused just a thin thread of his angelic essence between his teeth and into the abused flesh on the demon’s shoulder. His lips tingled with the ethereal essence made nearly-tangible. He bottomed out again as he did so, and Crowley unraveled beneath him, screaming his name and writhing against him with abandon. He seized so tightly around Aziraphale that not a second later he was spilling into Crowley, the tension pooled in his stomach going white-hot and rushing outwards, tearing Crowley’s name from his mouth like a benediction as his skin flushed hot, pinpricks of residual energy sending a tingling sensation over every nerve. 

He was panting when he came back to his senses, moments later, and Crowley was very nearly boneless beneath him, gasping into the bedsheets. Aziraphale slumped against the demon as he softened, and it took him long moments before he remembered how to move. Gingerly, he disengaged their tangled limbs and and sank into the bed next to Crowley. Refractory periods meant very little to them, but that particular party trick always resulted in such intense orgasms for both of them that it didn’t seem like there would be an encore any time soon as they both recovered. Aziraphale miracled away the mess and sweat and settled them both comfortably into the bed. 

  
  


“Good morning, dear boy” Aziraphale murmured breathlessly. Crowley huffed out a laugh, and fondly muttered ' _Ridiculous. I don’t even know why I like you_.' under his breath. 

Mock affronted, Aziraphale said, “Keep it up and I’ll have you again out of spite.” 

Crowley groaned and rolled over to face the angel, smiling, and tossed a leg over one of Aziraphale’s thighs. 

“Bookmark that idea for later angel, you might be onto something there.” 

**Author's Note:**

> WELL YOU GUYS. I guess i'm just going to write a ton of D/s fic for the rest of my life. The next 2 (maybe 3) fics are all D/s Ineffable Husbands. I wont apologize. _Be the fic you want to see in the world,_ or something. 
> 
> The Prompt That Started It All:  
> Characters/Pairing: A/C  
> Rating: Explicit  
> Effort(s): m/m  
> Dynamic: whoever uses powers tops  
> Genre: pwp, really, though if you manage to cram a plot in there given the word limit, I'm not averse!  
> Filth is more important though!  
> Prompt: Divinity. Any form of them using their powers on each other: C seducing A to do things he  
> wants to, but would not consider on his own; A marking C (raise your hand for camp  
> painslut!Crowley); or whatever else you can come up with
> 
> And, lastly, comments and critiques are always welcome.


End file.
